Different Ending for All American Girl
by Dramione Scorose
Summary: A different way to the same ending. A bit more dramatic than the original one. One-shot.


Note: Hi, thanks for clicking on my story! This starts when David throws Sam the first note in their art class, after she appears on national television telling the world she loves him. I wanted the ending to be more dramatic than the actual ending, so I wrote my ideal one. This is a one-shot. I'm currently working on another story, Denying The Truth, so go check it out.

Disclaimer: I don't own the anything, except a little bit of the plot.

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Friends?

That one word was enough to make me feel like my heart was no more. I felt cold all over. A hollowness settled in my stomach. The butterflies that was caused by him before was killed with that one word. Maybe he didn't see the press conference, and was just being friendly. Or, he did, and he couldn't forgive me.

I wrote back: No. I want to be more than friends.

But of course I couldn't say that. That would just humiliate me further than it already has. I tore another piece from my sketchpad and wrote: Yes, of course. And threw it to him.

I watched him read it and reread it from the corner of my eye, while I pretended to study the skull. He was expressionless as I watched him write something else, but I couldn't stay there. I don't want to read what he will write next. Awkwardly, and trying to see through the tears that had filled my eyes, I stood, knocking down my chair in the process. I ignored the stares from the rest of the class. I grabbed my bag from the floor, clumsily picked up my sketchpad, not bothering to close it. Unable to uphold my rough treatment, a page from my sketchpad ripped. I carefully diverted my gaze from David's. I blindly walked to the front of the class.

"M – My dad just sent me an urgent text, and I, um, n – need to go see him," I croaked. I was stuttering so much that I wondered if Susan understood me. I couldn't bring myself to care that that was the stupidest lie ever. I couldn't even recognize my own voice, as a lump rose up my throat, threatening to choke me.

I could be mistaken, but Susan's face seemed to be filled with pity. Not waiting for her answer, I turned towards the door, stumbling out. I distinctly heard David call my name, but I couldn't let him see how he's affected me.

I had no idea how I walked down the stairs, but then, there I was, standing on the sidewalk, breathing in the fumes, the hard rain immediately soaking through my clothes. I leaned against the building wall, desperately trying not to cry, but failed miserably. Everything concerning David has seemed to fail for me. I took out my phone, and tried to find Catherine's phone number. Feeling stupid, I wiped furiously at my eyes with a shaking hand, the dampness getting to me. I had just found her phone number, when I heard David call my name again.

He had followed my out of class.

_He had followed me out of class._

It was probably him being nice and sympathetic again. I can't deal with a look of pity from him. Definitely not from him. I fumbled for my backpack, and turned away before he can see my face, and walked towards the subway.

"Sam!" David grabbed my arm. I could feel his warm touch, seeming to send my stomach fluttering. Butterflies that I thought was dead.

I kept my head down, my hair like a curtain around my face, protecting me from his gaze. I felt him stuff something in my hand.

"You dropped this," he said. There seemed to be a smile in his voice. _He was mocking me?_

I brought the piece of paper through my curtain, and froze. It was the first note I wrote him. The one that said:

No. I want to be more than friends.

_No. I want to be more than friends._

I felt my stomach turn.

"Sam."

I stuffed the paper in my pocket, and wrenched my arm from him. I felt the tears falling at full speed now. _How could he do this?_ As if the pain of being 'just friends' with him was not enough.

"Sam!" he caught my arm again.

Feeling more humiliated than I have ever felt, I brushed away my hair. I didn't care if he saw me crying now. I just wanted to get out of there. Even if it meant I had to humiliate myself further.

"I'm sorry, OK?" I said, pushing him away. "I'm sorry you had to see that note. I didn't mean it," I said unconvincingly. "I'm sorry for lying to you, for using you," I hiccupped loudly, but I kept going. "And I'm even sorrier that I can't take it back." He was staring at me strangely as I said this. "And most of all I'm sorry for humiliating you on national television, when you obviously don't feel same way. Just forget the note."

I turned to leave. But David grabbed onto my arm once again, and spun me back around. I gasped, as my hand landed on his surprisingly hard chest. His other arm had gone protectively around my waist. I lifted my eyes to look into his bright green ones. I couldn't help but notice his lips looked especially kissable, and dangerously close to mine.

"But I can't," he said hoarsely, and leaned down. And kissed me. I felt the electricity from my lips, all the way down to my Converse clad feet. I felt my whole body was charged. The butterflies seemed to have revived, and was fluttering in my stomach like crazy, their wings beating at full velocity. The hollowness, was flooded by a wave of pure joy. As if by reflex, I threw my arms around his neck, and all I could think about was how right it felt, as if my arms were to be made to fit around his neck.

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